Sphere of Influence
by Ausfan
Summary: A mixture of drama and time travel as Bodie and Doyle must go back in time to World War II to try and undo a dramatic alternation of history.
1. London 1987 Part 1

Part 1 London, 1987  
  
(1)  
  
Bodie swirled the teaspoon around his cup, sat back and scowled. As often happened when he was unoccupied and bored, he sought a source of amusement. One such source sat across the desk from him, carefully turning the tiny screws of the loading spring of his .45 semi-automatic Remington. "Do you know," he finally asked, "what a fetish is?"  
  
Doyle continued working. "Happens I do. What is it, word of the day?"  
  
"I looked it up. It's an idol worshipped by heathens or something somebody fiddles with to the point of obnoxiousness."  
  
"Obsession. You mean obsession. No such word as obnoxiousness."  
  
Bodie took a swig of his tea and made a face. "There is, and you're it. This tea's cold. Your turn."  
  
Doyle put the gun back together with practiced precision. "What am I, the butler? Make your own bloody tea." He slid the gun into the holster under his arm and looked across at Bodie.  
  
Folding his arms across his not-unimpressive chest, Bodie looked disdainful. "You know, its ten years I've been partnered with you. I'm woefully underpaid, considering the load I bear."  
  
Doyle was trying to come up with something better than a simple "get stuffed" when Cowley called for them. They crossed the office to his door, entered and closed it behind them. They sat in the two chairs opposite their boss and waited while he rearranged the files on his desk.  
  
Time and pressure had marked George Cowley, turning his hair silver, carving their mark in the shadowed grooves of his face. The years had wizened him. But those blue eyes could still dissect with a glance, and the mind behind them was still as sharp, and as cunning. While it was so they knew he would continue, as would they.  
  
Cowley opened a file, closed it again, tapped the desk with a pencil. Doyle straightened a little, became more alert. Anything that had his boss nervous was worth his attention. He expected the unusual and got it.  
  
"What do either of you know about the fourth dimension?"  
  
Doyle shrugged, lost, then turned to stare as Bodie answered.  
  
"Time. At least I think its connected to time somehow." He noted his partners look and raised his eyebrows. "Readers Digest."  
  
Doyle grinned. "Long stakeouts, eh?"  
  
Cowley hushed them and they quietened. "As it happens, Bodie isn't far wrong. I'm about to ask you two to get involved in something very...unusual. More important than I can say, and I can't order you.  
  
The two agents exchanged brief looks before Bodie answered. "Volunteers? Could be interesting. What's it about?"  
  
Cowley sat back and rubbed a tired eye. "Two days ago I had a call from an old friend, Dr James Potter. We were at Edinburgh University together. He was always a bit scatterbrained, but clever, smart as a whip. So when he called I knew it would be interesting." He gave a brief snort of laughter. "Interesting...an old Chinese curse for the days we live in. It seems that Jimmy's experiments have made our days even more interesting." He shook his head abruptly. "No, we'll not discuss this any further here. Meet me at the Commerce Research Institute on Holland Road just off the Kensington High Street, at 1.30. I think Jimmy'd better explain it himself."  
  
The old sandstone building crouched between a firestation and an even older pub and looked as scientific as its neighbours...and James Potter was equally misleading. His lab coat was blindingly white, and covered an expensive suit. Only his hair fit the picture; it was thining, with what remained frizzing out from his skull like escaping cushion stuffing. Steel- rimmed glasses perched on an outstanding nose, and he blinked over them and smiled uncertainly as he was introduced to Bodie and Doyle.  
  
"It was good of you both to come. I suppose George told you..."  
  
"I didn't tell them anything, Jimmy. I want you to do that. As you did for me - simply. Neither of them are scientifically minded." Cowley perched himself up on a stool, looking for all the world like an over-age school boy, and smiled benignly at his top operatives.  
  
Potter pushed his glasses up his nose, took his pipe from his pocket and stared at it for a moment. He looked up and shook his head.  
  
"Do either of you know anything about the unified field theorem?"  
  
Bodie scratched his nose and nodded gravely. "The old UFT. Studied it for my doctorate."  
  
"Ahem. Well, let me see....I'll avoid specifics, which aren't all that relevant anyhow. The end result is what counts, not the means. If you would like to take a seat, I'll make this brief."  
  
He packed his pipe and lit it, taking a noisy puff. "It's remarkable, really, where these things come from. Discoveries, I mean. Sometimes a person can work all their life on a project and get nowhere. And sometimes the most amazing finds practically fall on one, out of the blue. I'm starting to believe the Universe is rather more open to random chance than science would have us believe."  
  
He studied the two younger men for a few thoughtful moments. "So, something extraordinary has occurred, possibly the most momentous discovery since fire." He indicated a large video screen tucked inconscipously amoungst the clutter of his office. "It might be better if you saw the effect first. It will save a lot of words." He turned to a VCR on the workbench behind him and pressed the play button.  
  
The screen flickered to life, showing an image of that same laboratory. The focus was on a set of apparatus in the middle of the room; a beam of light appeared from off screen and hit the centre of the equipment, which almost immediately became obscured by a creamy sphere of light that entirely surrounded it. Potter froze the picture and turned back to his audience.  
  
"I was working on an idea of mine regarding energy conservation, involving the use of space-grown crystals, magnetic fields and lasers. The crystal I was using had some physical abnormalities - I didn't know how abnormal it was until this experiment. To cut a very technical explanation extremely short, I managed to create an energy field with properties previously unknown to human science. This..thing...which I have called a four dimensional sphere, seems to have been produced when the area within the containment system was, for the merest fraction of a second, accelerated beyond the speed of light."  
  
"I thought Einstein said that wasn't possible," Bodie said, and Potter nodded.  
  
"Einstein didn't take tachyons into account, but he was basically correct. It isn't possible - not in this universe, at least. Somehow a hole was punched through into an alternate universe with a different set of physical laws to our own. This sphere is the result. But the sphere isn't the only reason I called George. I entered the sphere to take readings...." He paused momentarily in response to the chorus of surprised shuffling from his audience, then continued, the picture of insoucience.  
  
"...and once in there I found that while a person is inside, they are cut off from what I have come to call their "parent" reality. I also observed that the past and present, as I know it, has become altered. Changed. And my discovery was the principle element of that change."  
  
Potter wiped his eyes and looked suddenly very tired. "To put the matter briefly, gentlemen - history has been altered in a very direct and disastrous way. And not by me. This sphere," he said, tapping the screen with his pipe, "transports whatever matter is within it to a place that I call at right angles to our three dimensions. Once there, it is possible, by adjusting the energy flow, to move the sphere's contents to any point in the past...."  
  
"Hold it!" Bodie made a time-out signal. "Are you trying to say you've invented a time machine?" He looked at his partner. "Well, is he?" He looked back at the Professor, who shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded.  
  
"In a way. It isn't a machine, exactly. I've created a field generator; the machinery doesn't go anywhere - it projects a field which is able to transport one to any time in the past."  
  
Doyle and Bodie studied the Professor for a few moments, then switched their joint gaze to Cowley. A man with far less nous could have read their sceptical disbelief.  
  
"Bear with us - neither Jimmy nor I have lost our minds. Go on, Jimmy, tell them the bad news."  
  
Bodie muttered to Doyle from the corner of his mouth. "Why did I know there had to be bad news!"  
  
"Yes, the bad news." Potter looked grim, staring at them over his half- specs and chewing on his bottom lip, as if noticing them for the first time. "We scientists are not necessarily stupid, you know. I saw it at once, the potential for distaster. I decided to destroy it, and my notes." He sighed heavily. "I was too late, one of my assistants had already used it. I tried to correct the mistake, to find him, but I couldn't. And when I came back," he gestured around the comfortable cluttered space, "everything was -- wrong."  
  
"Wrong?" Doyle was experiencing a major goosebump reaction. "What does that mean...wrong?"  
  
"The world. Everything. That young man altered history. And I do not speak of a minor alteration - his interference has caused a catastrophic transformation of the timestream."  
  
Cowley studied their faces intently. "First things first. I want you to experience the thing yourself. It's the only way to convince those sceptical minds of yours that the both of us haven't gone completely daft!" 


	2. London 1987 Part 2

Part 1 London, 1987  
  
(2)  
  
Ray Doyle's life had been anything but mundane, and he had seen and experienced many bizarre things. But none as strange as the few minutes spent in a reality other than the one he was born to. And nothing within his experience helped him to understand it.  
  
And if he was confused, then he knew someone else who was even more so. Quietly, he pushed the glass of beer across the table to his partner until it was just under his chin.  
  
"Drink. Beer. Do you good."  
  
Bodie picked the beer up and took a deep, thirsty swig. He wiped his mouth, sighed, and put the glass down. "I must be nuts. Hallucination, that's what it was. Some sort of gas. Must be it. No other answer. Or drugged. The tea." He looked at the beer with suspicion. "You can't trust anyone anymore."  
  
Doyle understood Bodie's feelings very well. "You can trust Whitbread. Straight from the brewery, that one. And it wasn't a drug and it wasn't a gas. It happened."  
  
Bodie scowled and pushed himself backwards in the chair. They'd retired to the pub next door to the lab for a drink and a talk. "Explain it to me, then. You're clever...explain to me what that was and how its possible." His eyes narrowed and Doyle couldn't help laughing.  
  
"Sure, just call me Mr Spock. Dr Potter's amazing fairground ride is beyond even me, mate. And if you believe its a fake, then he's managed to fool Cowley, too."  
  
Bodie drank some more beer and shook his head. "Got me there. It's all very weird, though I do like the bit about us thrashing Germany in the war...."  
  
Doyle jerked upright, spilling some of his own beer, and Bodie froze.  
  
"What!"  
  
"Karl Emmert. Heading for the Institute."  
  
"Jesus! He's supposed to be in Berlin!"  
  
Doyle slid out of his seat and moved quickly towards the front door of the pub, pulling out his walkie talkie as Bodie went to check the window. "45 to Base. Priority One Scramble to Commerce Research Institute, Holland Road. Known SD agent sighted -- "  
  
"Looks like he's with a strike team; five, maybe six men," Bodie added quickly.  
  
" -- probably accompanied by SD Strike Team of five, maybe six. Acknowledge."  
  
"Acknowledging, 45. Location of Alpha One?"  
  
"At the Institute."  
  
"Wait." There was a few seconds silence, while the two men continued to observe the movement in the street. Then the duty operator's calm voice returned. "We're in contact with Alpha One and he confirms a Scramble Priority One. Backup is on the way; ETA ten minutes. Alpha One requires you to hold action unless a direct attack is made. Acknowledge."  
  
Doyle grunted, unhappy. "Acknowledged. 45 out." Aware of the curiosity of the bar patrons but ignoring it, Doyle ducked down and slipped across to where Bodie was peering through the curtains. "What's happening?"  
  
"They're definitely going for the Institute. I count three across the street near the bookshop, two this side. Don't know how many coming from the other way. That backup better hurry - these boys don't seem in a mood to wait."  
  
Doyle scanned the street, his experienced eye sorting the innocent from the suspicious. Happily the street wasn't crowded; there was a scattering of civilians and motor traffic was light. He watched a dark blue unmarked van cruised slowly past them to park on the opposite side of the street ten yards further along. The door swung open and four men leapt down, and each was carrying the latest model Schmeisser submachine guns.  
  
"That's it - let's go." Doyle pulled the pistol from its holster, as did Bodie, and they pushed through the door and out onto the street. There was no time for tactics, only speed and they sprinted for the front door of the Institute. The nearest man, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, dropped the case and reached inside his jacket. No sooner had the grip of his gun appeared than Bodie fired and the man was down.  
  
The street erupted into violence. Doyle risked a shot at Karl Emmert but missed as the German ducked behind a group of screaming pedestrians. Doyle knew they couldn't have a firefight in the street, knew that while he and Bodie would hold back their fire around civilians, the Germans would have no such scruples. He ducked as a blast from the nearest machinegunner went over his head and through a glass shop window and then both he and Bodie were inside the building.  
  
As Bodie kicked the door shut Doyle swung around and caught sight of one of the two front security guards lying in a pool of blood on the floor. The other guard was missing, and the security controls at the guardpost were a shattered mess. Even as he turned to warn Bodie he heard the muffled crack of gunfire from further within the building.  
  
I'll handle the door," Bodie said, as he dragged a sofa across to block the entrance. "Go!"  
  
Doyle went. He sprinted down the corridor towards Potter's lab, passing another dead guard - but not the missing guard from the entrance. The fact that the alarms weren't on meant the one dead guard had been taken by surprise, and from within. He turned the last corner, then ducked back as a bullet smacked into the wall above his head. He recognised the shooter at the same moment as he was seen.  
  
"It's me - don't shoot!"  
  
Cowley's voice snapped in anger. "Fool! Get in here - where's Bodie?"  
  
Doyle ducked into the room, nearly tripping over another dead guard. It was the missing front man. Doyle did a quick scan of the lab, caught sight of Dr Potter crouched behind his arm chair, then turned back to Cowley, who was calmly reloading his revolver. "Well?"  
  
"Covering the front door waiting for the cavalry."  
  
"Good. Go and help him. We'll be good enough here now this traitorous lad is out of it. Be off!"  
  
Doyle went. He could hear muffled gunfire as he pelted back down the corridor; he slid around the corner as the main door blew inwards with the recognisable whumping boom of a plastic explosion. The force of the blast threw him backwards - he saw multicoloured lights as his head struck the wall, and he blacked out. 


	3. London 1987 Part 3

Part 1 London, 1987  
  
(3)  
  
Bodie parted Doyle's hair and peered down at his skull. "No blood, but a nasty big lump. You're in for a headache. Good thing you got a hard nut."  
  
Doyle grunted and touched the tender spot on the back of his head gingerly. During the few minutes he'd been out of it Murphy and a team of half a dozen agents had arrived at the scene to prevent the Germans from entering the building. The result was two CI5 agents dead and one wounded, while four of the Germans had been killed. Emmert and one other had escaped into a backstreet and been picked up by a waiting car, which had slipped away in heavy traffic.  
  
Cowley looked at the chaos of burned and broken doors, furniture and wounded and dead men with a snort. "Damned messy. I'll take the KGB over the SS any day - at least the Russians have a healthy self-preservation instinct."  
  
He turned to eye Doyle, who set himself for a blast about carelessness, but his unpredictable boss fooled him again. "Get that looked at by a doctor, Doyle. I want you fit for tomorrow. And I want both of you to spend the night at the back up Safe House. If this is what I think it is, we can expect follow-up action. Possibly against CI5 as well as here."  
  
Bodie groaned. "Not another night in that bloody Soho bedsitter. A man can get carried off by cockroaches if he isn't careful."  
  
If Emmert and his men find you, insects will be the least of your worries. Take Doyle to the hospital for a checkup, then go straight to the flat. I'll see you both at 8 tomorrow morning."  
  
On their way out they passed Murphy doing a body check on the German agents, while the police kept the curious crowds at bay. He was shaking his head as he eyed the carnage. "We timed it well, by the look of it. You lads are very unpopular in all the wrong places. What'd you do to get an SD Strike Team mad at you?"  
  
Bodie unlocked the passenger door of his car to let Doyle in. "Don't mention time, old boy. It's a very sore point at the moment." And he tapped Doyle gently on the top of the head as he fell into the car. "In more ways than one."  
  
Doyle's head proved to be no more than bruised and they spent an uneventful night in the small Soho flat. Bodie sat back to watch tele with a pizza while Doyle nursed a grinding headache and tried to read. But the memories kept intruding - the ones he'd started the day with and the new ones given to him during his brief contact with the fourth dimension.  
  
His sleep was disturbed and dream-ridden with snatches of voice, with people he both knew and didn't know, with odd shifting images of memory like the picture on a ghosting TV screen. And the realisation finally hit him, in the dark at some hour of the cold morning, that he'd been robbed of his rightful past, his proper present...him and everyone, everywhere. It was a crime beyond imagining. When he woke the next morning, headachy and still tired, he'd decided that if he didn't resolve the problems somehow he'd be burdened with the images of a lost world all his life.  
  
The first thing they noticed when they arrived at their HQ that morning was the beefed-up security. A couple of dozen suspicious pairs of eyes were watching the building the surrounding streets from various vantage points. They were all a touch nervous, and an unsuspecting driver had his backfiring car targeted by weaponry ranging from handguns to mortars. CI5 was like a hedgehog with its quills out; suspicious, edgy and ready to lash out. Doyle watched, amused, as Bodie had to show his ID to a draftee from the SAS, a capable young man quite unimpressed by Bodie's annoyed glare.  
  
Dr Potter was with Cowley in his office, looking as if he'd slept on a couch somewhere, in the suit he was wearing. The old man gave the two agents a weary good morning and yawned, almost dislocating his jaw.  
  
Dressed in shirtsleeves and looking uncharacteristically scruffy, Cowley was running an electric shaver over his face when the two men entered his office. He eyed them in the mirror and kept shaving. When he finally spoke, his tone was surprisingly cordial.  
  
"You two broken your fast yet?"  
  
Bodie reached over to grab a piece of toast from the desk. "One lousy cup o' tea."  
  
"Mm, good," Cowley answered absently, and finished his shaving. Seeing his chief's state of mind, Doyle took the opportunity to pour himself a cup from Cowley's silver tea pot before settling back down next to Bodie. When Cowley had finished and tidied himself up to his satisfaction, he slumped into his chair and looked at them both from a pair of weary eyes. He had a lousy night too, Doyle thought, but his voice was typically crisp.  
  
"Well, you've both had time to think. What conclusions have you come to? I suppose you can now believe Jimmy's little invention isn't a fable, at least, after yesterday's German visit."  
  
Bodie wiped the crumbs from his mouth with his sleeve. "Not bloody wrong. I've never heard of that big a strike, at least not in years. They wanted to get in that lab very badly. I assume the guard that attacked you was a plant?"  
  
Cowley nodded. "Employed for almost a year, beyond suspicion. The SD have been planning this for a long time - hardly surprising, since they had more than 40 years notice."  
  
"Well, we've got time, too" Bodie said, "why can't we just go back a couple of days and stop the fella from doing his trip?"  
  
"Think about it, Bodie." Cowley tapped the table top irritably. "The sabotage took place in the original timeline. Two days ago on this timeline the lad wasn't even here. Jimmy tells me that the actual alteration took place in 1942 - any correction that has to be done must take place there, at the source of the corruption."  
  
The realisation hit Doyle a moment before it hit Bodie. His jaw dropped and he stared at his boss in horror. "Jesus...you want us to go back there. Back to 1942!"  
  
Calmly, George Cowley nodded. "I do. A man should have died, and because he didn't, we live in this constant state of political chaos, and most of Europe exists in slavery."  
  
Doyle felt the chill of forewarning. "Who?"  
  
"I need you to see to the death of Reinhard Heydrich. In Prague, in May, 1942."  
  
Ray Doyle looked at the face of his enemy. It was an old photograph, taken of a younger Heydrich during the summer of 1943. The face, the name, were quite familiar to him, as to most human beings living. Along with Hitler and Stalin, he was one of the boogie men of the twentieth century. In that altered timeline he had organised the toppling and murder of Hitler, taken over the Reich and gone on to put Germany into an unbeatable position by the end of 1943. He had died only ten years previously, handing over control of the Greater German Reich to his son, Karl. And Karl had a son called Tristan - the cause of all their problems.  
  
Cowley had taken them all to one of the smaller conference rooms, setup with projectors, screens and maps, and was giving them an encapsulated history lesson, linking it through the two timelines. The image on the screen changed to the face of a younger man, with similar features.  
  
"....and it didn't take us long to figure out who was the cause of our problems. In Jimmy's original timeline the name on his passport is Erwin Eugen, legally changed by deed poll in his home city of Pottsdam. He'd changed his name from Tristan Heydrich because, in that line, being Heydrich's grandson was no particular benefit; in the Nazi-hating post war Europe it was a distinct disadvantage. He'd come over to study at Oxford, being a bright lad, and then got a job at Jimmy's lab. Somehow he'd found out about the experiment. The rest is, unfortunately, history."  
  
Bodie wasn't taking notes, but was obviously still struggling with all the paradoxes of time. "But how...what happened to the grandson from the original timeline? Is he still alive?"  
  
Potter shook his head. "According to my theories, that isn't possible. When I first tested the sphere's abilities, I tried going back just a few days, but was unable to do so - the sphere simply bounced back to the present. I believe there is some law of physics that will not allow the same organic material to exist in the Universe twice. And I don't believe young Heydrich could have been present when he, himself, was born - if a human cannot exist twice, then conception cannot take place, and they would cease to exist immediately - because they'd never been conceived or born."  
  
Bodie groaned. "Now, c'mon Professor! How can they go back to be at their own conception if they've never been born!"  
  
Potter laughed. "Confusing, isn't it! It's a matter of timelines, you see. You have to bear in mind that...  
  
Bodie cut him off. "Don't bother trying to explain. But you didn't answer my question - if Tristan Heydrich went back in time - what happened to him?"  
  
"I don't know. There is no sign of him in the histories, and he can't have been present when he, himself, was conceived, or he wouldn't have been.." he smiled quickly at Bodie's frown, "....if you see what I mean."  
  
Cowley cut in. "A minor consideration at this point. The fact is that he did go back. We can't know how long he stayed there or how much information he passed onto Heydrich, but however much it was, it was enough to cause dramatic changes to the outcome of the war."  
  
"So you want us to go back and knock him off?" Bodie leant back and stretched his legs out. "No problem. Be a pleasure."  
  
"Not that simple, Bodie," Cowley continued. "There's already enough interference with time - it's essential that the timeflow be restored as close as possible to the original. And since the Germans know about Jimmy's work and would probably have reached a similar conclusion, I suspect we don't have a lot of time. I wouldn't put it past them to go all out to stop us - up to and including a nuclear attack on London itself."  
  
That got a reaction. Doyle shook his head in shock. "You must be kidding! They'd start a war!"  
  
James Potter wiped his glasses with a sigh. "Young man - the Germans have been at war with the world for almost a century. Scientific and economic predictions are that they will almost certainly go on the offensive again within the next decade - and will not hesitate to use nuclear weapons. To prevent our tinkering with their past, I don't believe there's anything they wouldn't do." 


	4. London 1987 Part 4

Part 1 London, 1987  
  
(4)  
  
Planning began at once. Cowley organised one of the basement conference rooms to be set up with computer links to the CI5 mainframe, projectors, screens and TV/video equipment. Copious amounts of coffee kept them awake while they talked and talked...  
  
"What I want to know" Bodie said wearily, "is why they didn't just knock the Professor off? Then they wouldn't have needed to attack the Institute? Why let him go on with his work?" He grinned briefly at the Professor. "Sorry to bring the subject up, Prof, but it is odd."  
  
"Not at all. In fact, I agree they probably could have done so. But I think perhaps they were unsure of the results. We may be tied in some way, that original Potter and I. And perhaps if I died here, I would have died there as well. The only way they could be sure was to wait until I made the discovery, and then strike."  
  
Everyone was tired, but time, strangely enough, was something they didn't have enough of. After twelve hours they came up with a plan that read like the plot of a B Grade Hollywood movie. But logic had long since gone out the window; outrageous seemed the order of the day.  
  
Cowley had set a map of Europe on the board and outlined the broad details. He'd looked at current political situation and compared it to the original timeline and the historical set up that had existed in 1942 - prior to the tinkering. In best schoolteacher fashion, their boss had gone over the points logically, one by one.  
  
"As your own experience with Jimmy's sphere have shown, using it to venture beyond our three dimensions enables us to regain memory of our own original time line. For myself, I find this an occasionally annoying ability, but useful in gaining insight into what changes have been made."  
  
"First, it's obvious that you'll need to get back to May, 1942. That's where things went wrong. Our knowledge of this timeline have Reinhard Heydrich very prominently placed - one of the most well-known figures in modern history. Yet we have very little memory of him from the original timeline."  
  
Bodie nodded. "Part of me knows him only too well - but I don't even know his name in the other bloody memories. Who was he, really?"  
  
"A long story, which we don't have time to discuss here. At the time of our concern," Cowley continued, "he had made his way up through the ranks of the SS to become Reichprotector of Bohemia, which included Czechoslovakia. As in this timeline, he was a dangerous, brilliant and twisted creature, and the world would have been a better place had he not been born at all. My research shows that around the end of May Heydrich began a huge roundup of civilians in Czechoslovakia; he almost completely wiped out any resistance movement in that country within a week. And he did it with devastating thoroughness. As if he knew exactly where to look."  
  
"Which obviously he did," Bodie said, and Cowley nodded agreement.  
  
"Yes, we can say that now. Historians assumed a traitor or traitors within the Czech underground. But during my trip in Jimmy's device I concentrated on my memories of the true history of that time - and I know for a fact that Heydrich was attacked somewhere near the end of May, 1942 - and that he died as a result of that attack."  
  
"So Tristan warned his grandfather," Doyle looked down at the notes he'd made. "And he could presumably give Heydrich enough vital information to entirely change the course of the war."  
  
"Yes. Something as basic as knowing the British had access to the German code transmitting devices would have given Heydrich a tremendous advantage. Which, of course, it did." Cowley chewed on his pen thoughtfully. "We always assumed it was his brilliant intelligence network, or undetected traitors. He was always one jump ahead of the allies. Now we know he had forewarning at a crucial time in the war."  
  
"The plan then has to be for us to go back and stop Tristan from changing history." Bodie shook his head. "I don't see how we can. We don't where he'll be for certain."  
  
"But we do." Cowley tapped his pen against the map, pinpointing Prague. "We know he has to have gone to Prague sometime in May, 1942. I have no memory of changes prior to May, so it has to be then. If you two can get to Prague and somehow get close to Heydrich, you will have a chance of spotting him. His arrival must cause some sort of stir."  
  
"Get close to Heydrich!" Bodie looked unimpressed. "Doyle speaks better German than I do, but neither of us speak Czech. We'd be on a rack the first time we opened our mouths!"  
  
There were any number of problems to be overcome, and at first the whole idea seemed impossible. But they all knew if they had chance of righting the disastrous wrong a plan had to be conceived and carried through, no matter how little chance there seemed of it succeeding.  
  
At last, in the early hours of the morning, they finalised their plans. Doyle, who spoke the best German, would need an identity that would enable him to get close, with hope of survival. His best way of safely doing that was to be a member of the SS, an identify not likely to be lightly questioned.  
  
A few things couldn't be left to chance; it was decided to bring Murphy into the case. He would be sent on a separate journey to obtain some essential gear for Doyle, along with papers they could use for reference in creating Doyle's identity.  
  
And Doyle would have to be able to speak colloquial German. Both Doyle and Bodie had done a language course two years previously. But their accents were obviously un-Germanic, and their colloquial style was 40 years later than their target time. To have a chance they would need to practice, to be around people speaking it for a fair length of time.  
  
There was only one solution: live there for a time, live amongst people speaking the language and grow some natural accents. But Germany was much too dangerous, too tempting; Cowley was concerned that they would interfere with history, being at the source of the Nazi party. So they chose Austria.  
  
"And your identity for the trip to Prague, Doyle, will be half Austrian, English-speaking, which will help cover any accidental use of your own language. But you'll still need to understand the world of that time, and going back there for a spell is the only way to do it."  
  
Potter went over the timing of travel with them. He could not tell where they were all those years in the past - their only way of being safely collected was to be at an exact location at an exact time. Potter could then travel back in the sphere and collect them. But if they failed to be at their pickup point, they could be lost back in time forever.  
  
They located clothing, maps, a little appropriate cash and some convertible gold, and prepared for their first journey back in time. It was decided that six months should be enough for them to put an Austrian polish on their German; but the thought of being so far from home and help was chilling. Doyle recognised the necessity, was excited by the challenge - and very much aware of the potential for disaster.  
  
Cowley spoke to Doyle alone that last morning. It was quiet in the underground rooms, with twenty feet of earth and concrete between them and the outside world. Potter and Bodie were asleep on camp beds in the corner and most of the lights were out. One desk lamp made a pool of golden light in the otherwise dark room.  
  
They were drinking tea laced with some of Cowley's Chivas Regal; just enough to kick-start the circulation. Doyle was slumped over the paper- littered desk, Cowley lay back in the chair, his tie loose, his eyes half- closed with weariness.  
  
"You know," Ray said in a tried, lazy drawl, "this is the most daft thing you've ever asked us to do. Probably we won't get back alive. Not from the major mission, anyhow. But.."  
  
Cowley gave a quick negative scowl and Doyle grinned.  
  
"...but I wouldn't miss it. Wouldn't not go. When I was a kid, I imagined I found Aladdin's Lamp, with the genii, and the three wishes. What would I ask for, with three wishes? A zillion quid? To be the greatest pianist who ever was? To live forever?"  
  
He dipped his finger in the cup and licked it. "But I always saved one of the wishes, to do something really huge. Immortality can sometimes mean just making your mark, changing the world. Well, now I got my third wish. Bodie and me, we're gonna change the world. And maybe we won't live forever, but.....whom the Gods favour, they first make mad. Let's hope it means we're both god-touched."  
  
Cowley raised his cup in salute. "Amen to that."  
  
Finally, they were ready to leave. They sat on stools in the centre of the lab as Potter prepared the generator. Bodie tucked his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out a chain, attached to a blunted bullet. He cradled it in one hand, then wrapped it around his neck.  
  
"What's that?" Doyle asked.  
  
"A lucky charm. It's the bullet with my name on it."  
  
Doyle shook his head. "Since when did you go in for lucky charms?"  
  
"Since now. Alright, laugh, but consider this: what if he gets it wrong and drops us from a thousand feet."  
  
"Thanks. I hadn't thought of that."  
  
The lab faded away to Bodie's vengeful chuckle and the world transformed to an opaque, milky haze.....  
  
* * * 


End file.
